As Long As I Have To Live
by Crystal9878
Summary: When Harry goes back to school, he notices something off about Ron, and he's not the only one to notice it. Hermione is worried about him too. Can the two of them help Ron? Or will it be to late? Rated M for Self-Harm, mature themes  maybe  and violence
1. Chapter 1

The sun was shining through Harry's window as he woke that morning. He knew that he had slept in, and he also knew he was in trouble from how Uncle Vernon's meaty hand was pounding violently on the fragile framework, and Harry feared the door might indeed collapse upon him.

"Oi! Boy, get out of bed and get down here! Right! THIS! **INSTANT!"**

The room shook as Uncle Vernon bellowed that last word, and he grudgingly sat up, and noticed his bed sheets were covered in pieces of paper. Picking one up, he recalled how he had been reading the letters all through the night. One was from Hermione, the other from Ron, and the rest were from Sirius, though the penmanship was slightly sloppy, which Harry could only guess meant that Sirius had been writing the last few in a hurry.

Dear Harry

I am so glad to have gotten your letters, all of them. I understand your distress over Him (Harry took "Him" to mean Voldemort.) but you mustn't keep this connection up, one He finds out, you will be very vulnerable to attacks on your mind. I will see you as soon as I can Harry, but for now, take care. And I would also suggest you send a letter to your funny weaselling friend (Harry took this to mean Ron) He seems to be a bit upset lately, though I cannot imagine why.

Love, Padfoot.

Harry sighed and put the letter down on his bed, then got up and unwillingly opened his door and trodded downstairs for breakfast.

Dudley was sitting at the table, with a massive amount of Bacon adorning his plate, whilst Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were talking heatedly.

"Really, Petunia, the boy is nothing but a nuisance. I say, he goes in the next month."

"But, Vernon, dear…" She trailed off as Harry stepped into the kitchen.

"You won't have to worry about me." He said stiffly. "Some of "my lot" are coming to pick me up in about a week to take me to Hogwa-"

"Don't you _dare _say the name of that "school" in my house!" Roared Uncle Vernon, decidedly purple in the face.

Harry went immediately silent and tried to bite back his rage. It was no use, he knew, to argue with his Uncle. He had seemed more temperamental lately, and Harry put It down to all the letters he had been receiving, including the one from Hermione, which had been short, and straight to the point.

Dear Harry

Padfoot and Moony will be coming at the end of the week to pick you up from the dreadful place you call home, meet them at the window.

Sincerely, Logic

"Logic" was Hermione's alter-ego and he chuckled a bit at the "logic" of it, then chuckled a bit more as he came up with that decidedly good pun.

Uncle Vernon, however, was not impressed with Harry's chuckling and sent him back up to his room, without any breakfast. Harry did not mind however, because he sat down on his bed, and pulled out a quill and piece of parchment, and wrote:

Dear Ginger

Padfoot told me it would be a good idea to write you a letter, that you had seemed a little "odd" lately, I am looking forward to seeing all of you, including every member of TO (The Order) If anything is up, you can send it to me, or you can wait until I get there at the end of the week, I look forward to it.

Sincerely, Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, but I'm a bust gal, so here's another chapter for you lot, and I hope you like it! Also, thank you to my reviewers, I would mention you, but I can't remember your penname(s) so, anyways, thanks! Also, I realize it's kinda changed a bit, when i first set out, I meant for Harry and Hermione to find out about Ron's self-injury at the same time, but the ever whispering muses put an idea into my head, so I thought I'd try it, if it doesn't go the way I planned, I'll think of something to do. Anyways, READ READ READ! Oh, and review :)**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters. FML. WHY CAN'T I OWN HARRY POTTER! WHHYYY! ( dramtic moment ended)**

Ron held Harry's letter in his hand, chuckling. So, Sirius had noticed something was off, eh? Well, then. He supposed it wouldn't be the first time he had gotten a strange look once or twice this summer. First from Ginny, when he had made a slightly dark joke about Avada Kadava'ring himself. Meanwhile, Hermione was getting more and nosier by the minute.

"Ron! Come down here!" Shouted Ms. Weasley, and he stood, dropping Harry's letter and forgetting all about it.

"Yes, mum?" He asked, trying to sound cheerful, and he must admit, he did a pretty good job of it.

"Where is your sister, dear? I thought she was out playing Quidditch with Fred and George, but turns out they've gone off to find some Garden Gnome repellent." She shouted, her voice turning sour when she said Garden Gnome repellent.

He knew what Fred and George referred to as "Garden Gnome repellent" was really them looking for magical creatures to create more supplies for Skiving Snack boxes.

"Nah, mum. I haven't seen her since this morning, but she knows Harry's coming, so my guess is she's up in her room, trying to make herself look pretty." He said, a sarcastic tone to his voice.

"Well, then dear, where's Hermione? I need you and someone else to clean up around here before Harry arrives tonight."

"I'll get her."

He ran up the stairs and then gasped aloud as he bumped his wrist on the railing, tripping over his own foot; he tumbled and landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, still clutching his wrist.

Mum was standing over him in a second, helping him up.\

"Well, honestly, Ron! If you don't fall down the chimney next, it will be a miracle…" But she trailed off as she looked at his hand, now frozen on his arm as he met his mother's eyes.

"Oh, now, what've you done to your wrist dear, honestly, you're so clumsy…" But he backed away as she tried to grab his hand.

"I'm fine mum, really." He protested, trying to go up the stairs, but she grabbed him by the hand again, and pulled him back down.

"Nonsense now let me see-"

But he jerked his hand away before she could pull up his sleeve, and turned to face her.

"Mum, I'm _fine! _Can't you just leave it? I haven't hurt my arm; I fell on my ass, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, please mind your language,-"

"Forget it!" He said, and trodded up the stairs, pulling back his sleeve and staring down at the gashes covering his arm.

He didn't hear Fred and George apparate above him, until Fred gave a loud,

"Wha!"

He jerked down his sleeve, and looked up at the twins, whom were on the landing above him.

"What's happened there, Ron?" George asked, a slightly sceptical tone to his voice.

"Nothing." He muttered, then tried to run up to his room, but it was no use, Fred had cornered him now.

"It looked mighty messy, Ron, what happened?" Fred inquired.

"Nothing."

"Did Pigwidgeon give you a beating?" Joked George.

"No."

"Are they _love_ scratches?"

"No."

"Did you try to mend your own bones?"

"No."

"Did Hermione finally get fed up with you?"

"Yes." Answered a female voice from below him, and he must've jumped a mile.

"Hermione! Blimey! You almost gave me a heart attack, now c'mon, lets ditch these dunderheads!"

And with that, they both pushed past Fred and George and upstairs into Ron's room.

"What's going on with them?" Asked Hermione, "And what's that on your sleeve?"

He now had irritated the deep wounds, which had caused the bright red stain on his jumper, and Hermione, without hesitation, reached forward and yanked back his sleeve.

He tried to pull it back down, and her grip, though not painful, was incredibly firm. There was no chance he could get away.

A small gasp escaped her lips, as she looked into his eyes, a horrified recognition flooding them.

"Ron…"


	3. Chapter 3

_He now had irritated the deep wounds, which had caused the bright red stain on his jumper, and Hermione, without hesitation, reached forward and yanked back his sleeve._

_He tried to pull it back down, and her grip, though not painful, was incredibly firm. There was no chance he could get away._

_A small gasp escaped her lips, as she looked into his eyes, a horrified recognition flooding them._

"_Ron…"_

He pushed her now limp arm away and stood up, yanking down his sleeve.

"Ron, wha-" She began, her voice weak and shaking.

"Hermione, just forget about it, okay?" He said, stepping out and closing the door behind him, pushing straight past Fred and George, who were still standing by the stairs.

"Ron! Hey!" Yelled Fred, but he ignored them and walked straight past his mother, who glanced at him with a worried look in her eye.

"I'm going outside for a bit, mum." He said, then, not bothering to hear her reply, trodded out the door and into the vast field of grass which was as tall as he was.

Sinking to the ground, he felt the sun hot on his back. As were the tears on his face. She knew.

She knew what no one else could _ever _know, she had looked at them with horror, and with an understanding. There was no excuse, she had known they were self-inflicted the moment she saw them.

He pulled out a sharp piece of glass from his pocket and held it to his already damaged skin, dragging it roughly across, trying to rid himself of that image, of her brown eyes staring at him with such horror, such contempt, trying to rid himself of this pain that seemed to go so deep, no amount of blood could ever satisfy him.

He lay there for an hour or so, staring up at the sky and feeling beautifully numb.

Then he saw the three figures in the sky, and he stood up. He first pointed his wand at his arm and sleeve and said, in a whisper, "_Scourgify."_

The red and maroon blood vanished instantly, and he walked inside, straight past his mother again, and into his room and slammed the door.

Hermione still sat, frozen, on his bed. She didn't even look up, but rather held this expression of shock, and stared unbelievingly at the wall.

"Harry's gonna be here in about two minutes." He said quietly, sitting down beside her on the bed.

She ever slowly turned her head to face him, her brown eyes swimming with tears.

"Ron, I, I don't…" She whispered, the tears falling down her face.

"Hermione, you won't tell Harry, you won't tell anyone. Not Mum nor Dad, not Fred, not George, not Bill, Charlie, Percy or Ginny. Hermione, I- I'm sorry you had to see that, but it'd be better if you just forgot it ever happened, okay?"

She stared at him for a moment, then reached down and pulled up his sleeve again, exposing his ruined skin.

"I won't tell anyone, but Ron, this isn't good." She said through her tears, then got up and left the room, leaving him sitting there, looking at his wounds and thinking.

What if she's right?


End file.
